Hallowed
by eternallost
Summary: Violet meets the Grim Reaper on Halloween night. Who will get a trick and who will get a treat? I wanted to write filthy words, so I did. Violet/Tate. Dominant female.


Violet could actually smell the rot of leaves in the air that morning; she could feel the autumn chill. How strange that she should feel anything at all. She had been a mist in the house. It wasn't like she had a calendar, and her "naps" could leave her out for months or years. What did she have to be awake for anyway, her parents' post-life crisis? The squeals of dead children? The bitter emptiness of betrayal and loss that imbued the woodwork? Yeah, moving to a new house proved to be about as much of a new start as death. But today was different. It was the day her soul had been yearning for, Halloween. And she would be damned if she was going to spend one more moment in this bloated corpse of a house that refused to decompose. Perhaps that was why the leaves were such a welcome scent; a reminder it was possible to return to nothingness.

She let no one know where she was going, no one asked. As she approached the iron gate she closed her eyes and tepidly stuck out her foot, expecting to appear back in the kitchen. Yet, there she was, her two laced boots on the pavement. She felt a laugh escape her throat. Outside her herself, she was amused at how excited she was to pass the crack she was forced to endlessly examine on the sidewalk. She walked past the pines at the end of the street, and as soon as she saw it merging seamlessly with the next with a tall street sign showing the intersection- she ran. She ran as far and as fast as her feet would carry her.

She was out of breath by the time her boots met the resistance of the sand. She fell to her knees next to a cypress tree, staring out at the vast Pacific Ocean on an empty strip of beach. Her eyes pricked as she only now understood how very small her world had truly become. She took a steadying breath through her nose. At least she was in a place where she could see the coast. She could hold onto that view for another year, dream another ten, and imagine the things across the sea that she could never touch. At least she was here, knowing what here was, rather than the unknown that awaited the rest of humanity. She shivered as she sat for a moment, the wind playing with her hair. Along with it came the brine and decay. _Death again_ , she thought to herself, _I've had enough of death. Where can I breathe life_? The air quickly escaped her nose as there came a thought. What had made her feel alive were the times that she was touched, worshipped, desired. All of which came from a man who was already dead. At a time when she herself was likely dead. Would it feel any different if they were living? The heat swirled in her heart and rushed out to her limbs. The back of her mind whispered, _I could sever all the ties…_

Sure it was Halloween, but being the walking dead left her feeling exempt from the obligation of a costume. She wasn't going to pretend she was anything she wasn't, _not like them_. She watched the bleach blonde thirty-somethings pushing their super-hero children in strollers with disgust. After the events of her existence she couldn't care less if she ever saw a baby again. Aside from the anger, it swirled a foreign darkness in her she wanted to set fire to. So, she was going to a place where there were a bunch of horny guys and no children. Of course her desires would lead her to a frat party. She rolled her eyes at the irony of it all. Luckily there was a school nearby to suit her needs. Maybe they could gang bang the thoughts out of her head.

She walked up the broken wooden steps littered with red solo cups. A crappily painted sign for the party dangled from the upper balcony. Two girls in slut costumes, or possibly everyday clothing, were smoking by the entrance. Violet didn't ask as she walked by, stuffing the American Spirits in her floral dress pocket. Once inside she slipped one out. It had been so long since she'd tasted the smoke. Now if only she had a light… She surveyed the costumed crowd: vampire looking to get laid by Twilight freaks, guy in a blow up penis (did that ever work?), muscle-head with sloppy green streak to indicate that he was the Hulk. Ugh. Then, she looked up to see the grim reaper before her, holding a flickering zippo.

"You would be the one with the light," her lips quirked in a sideways smile. She couldn't see under the black fabric covering his face; she couldn't even see his hands under his leather gloves. She leaned down and puffed in the tar filled air. Good. It was better this way. "You ever fuck in a graveyard?" She tilted her head. The reaper was silent for a moment, then slowly shook his head in dissent. Violet smiled a real smile then, and turned towards the exit. She grabbed a bottle of scotch before turning back to the stoic man and discreetly looking him up and down. That was enough to get him to move as she headed for the town cemetery atop the hill. Maybe she was a little contrived herself, but she wanted to do it somewhere that _wasn't_ inside- and being dead with the grim reaper by the graves garnished the night with the perfect amount of kink.

She took a swig of the golden liquid, swinging one leg in front of the other on her march up the hill. In the darkness, the streetlights and those of the city below were there to light the way. The liquor burned, but it made her feel alive, as a strange giddiness settled upon her. It was a peculiar peace. But it came to her knowing that even if the silent guy following a few paces behind was a psycho killer, what fucks would she give? Maybe it would even make the night more interesting.

They stopped by an ornate mausoleum as the reaper took off his cloak and laid it on the grassy knoll. "They said Death was sweet," she snarked, "who knew." She briefly wondered if he was smiling too as she sat with the bottle in her hand and stared up at the sky. It had been a long time since she'd seen it from a different perspective. She was lost in the view for a moment, when she looked over to see the man had been staring at her the whole time. She merely blinked and offered the scotch to him. He declined in the same manner as before. Violet fought back the nervous tinge in her stomach with another swig. Total inebriation could wait, she wanted to enjoy this. "So, what do you plan on doing with those O.J. gloves of yours?"

.

It wasn't like he had some grand plan. He'd just been cooped up in that house fighting the darkness for so long trying to prove that he could be good for someone who was vapor, air. The very air he'd been denied. He couldn't fucking breathe. And tonight that repressed darkness wanted to unleash it itself on the world. Where better than on the filth of a college campus? But the coursing, pitch black wave receded with the light of her honeyed hair in the doorway. While she'd been in the abyss, he'd been waiting; watching every day for her to reappear. Dealing with the taunting, degrading, and massive piles of shit. But she'd proved more of a ghost than anyone else in that wretched house had ever been. Maybe she'd gone up to heaven; for now, walking on the puke-stained shag carpet was an angel with a cigarette. All he could do was serve her with his flame.

"You ever fuck in a graveyard?"

 _I love you, Violet_. He swallowed slowly as he shook his head no. Truly, he hadn't. He'd never had her to ask him when he was alive. He could say 'a girl like her,' but there were none. Where there was once a blur of flesh and sinew, there was only Violet; a screaming world standing still. She grabbed the cheap liquor as she gave him a look over her shoulder, her dress briefly swirling around the delicate shape of her ass. It was the lustful look of appraisal that made him her slave.

As they were strolling up the hill, the adrenaline started to wear off and Tate's darkness whispered to his senses. _She doesn't know it's you right now, she didn't want to be with you, she wanted to be with someone else; anyone else_. His pace slowed as he shook his head. _What happens when she finds out it's you?_

 _She won't,_ he resolved. _I'll give her everything she could ever want, I'll put her happiness above my own just like I said. I'll keep her safe, being by her side instead of some other guy who'd hurt her. I'll keep my promises_.

The darkness whispered in her voice, _Justified lies_.

"They said Death was sweet, who knew."

 _Death is a horror show, just like life. One shitty B movie after another_. Until Violet.

"So, what do you plan on doing with those O.J. gloves of yours?"

 _Oh, Violet, Violet…_ He almost laughed. _Probably the same thing O.J. did_. But not now, not with her pale flesh in the moonlight. He would make her feel as hallowed as the ground they were on.

.

He used the back of his glove to softly trace the curvature of her cheek. She took a breath, her eyes questioning. Fate forever befitting her a virgin, no matter how many times he claimed her. With a hint of courage, she leaned in towards him, "Kiss me."

Tate turned away, his eyes meeting the ground from under the sheath of fabric. He shouldn't be doing this. _If she finds out…_

"What, are you horribly disfigured under there or something?"

His face turned back to meet hers but she couldn't see the pleading in his eyes.

"That'd be cool," she smirked. "Can I see?" He caught her hand forcefully at the wrist. His grip was iron.

Her hazel eyes widened as her lips parted briefly in silent question. Somehow she liked the feel of it, the roughness made her forget the emptiness of death. Her lips twitched closed at the realization and she swallowed as he moved the mask up to only reveal his mouth. Plush, un-chapped lips begging to be kissed. They were so remarkable that she absent-mindedly ran her thumb over them in appreciation.

That was all it took before his hunger was upon her. He wanted to moan into the hot wetness of her mouth, but he wouldn't. He knew any noise he made would give him away. And although he was trying his fucking hardest, Violet seemed to think it was a game.

"Strong, silent type, huh?" She smiled as she threw a stockinged leg over his black jeans, he could see the outline of her dark lace panties as she pulled up her skirt to settle on top of him. "The name's Violet." She lightly ground against the strain in his pants. "Say it, or don't. I think you'll find it's a word that will take you places."

His eyes flickered into the back of his head as he felt the heat of her against him, the rhythmic pressure. it had been way too long with only his hand and memories of her slick folds wrapped around him. She continued to grind against him as she pressed her lips against his, his response eager. The two teenagers were left panting as she moved her hands to the buttons down the front of her dress. She popped the first one with ease. "Do you want to see?" She looked at him under her lashes, flushed in the moonlight.

He nodded his head faster than he had time to think.

She ran her hands over the peak of her nipples through the fabric, "Say it."

 _Please, Violet_ …

"No? I guess you don't want to-" His lips were crushing against hers again, his gloves abandoned as his strong hands desperately sought the heat of her mounds through the cotton fabric.

"Mm!" she squealed prettily as his expert fingers went to work on her chest. "Na- no!" She huffed as he stopped at her command and pulled back. "You don't get to see me, and you don't get to touch me. Not unless you say my name."

He tilted his head at her, as if to say why.

"I-" her breathing matched her rapid heart, "I just wanted to see if it made me feel… different." His heart broke, unsure if she meant different from him; or different from the emptiness of death; or what she meant. She swallowed as she reaffirmed herself, placing a hand on either of his thighs, "But you don't mind if I see all of what you have to offer, do you?"

The reaper shook his head slowly once more.

"Good," she asserted as she unzipped his fly and pulled free the length of his erection. Tate flushed, knowing full well the precum had soaked the fabric of his boxers. What was worse, she didn't even touch it, she merely stared in approval at the solid mass. Her breath was hot against his balls as she observed him from an inch away. He was so hard he could feel his pulse through his dick and it took all it had in him not to savagely fuck her beautiful mouth. Her lips approached the leaking tip of him, "Say it," she breathed against his skin, "say it."

 _"Violet…"_ The pained voice escaped from his perfect frown.

"I knew it!" She stood as she ripped off his mask, revealing blonde curls matted with sweat and a river of tears. "You couldn't give me one night of freedom, Tate? One fucking night in all of eternity?!"

"Violet! I'm sorry, Violet, please, I'm so sorry…" He repeated as he clung to her boots. Now that he could say her name, he didn't know if he would stop.

"Fuck," she stomped, "Fuck! The night is almost over and it's wasted."

"I'll do anything, Violet, please, tell me what to do." He looked up at her beseechingly, not bothering to wipe the stream from his red rimmed eyes.

She looked down at him with revulsion, "You're pathetic, you know that?" she knelt to meet him at eye level, "You can cut the fake tears. They won't work on me."

Her comments made his insides quiver but he didn't falter, "They're real, Violet, and they haven't stopped since you left me."

"Oh yeah?" She scoffed, "And this hasn't stopped either, has it?" she spoke as she wrapped her delicate fist around his cock.

"Vi-!" He nearly came in her hand right then. He took a breath and looked up at her with a confused expression.

"No, I bet it hasn't." she smirked as she released him, "Because this," she said as she dipped the same two fingers inside her thighs and withdrew a shimmering trail, "hasn't left me either. And it's all your fault."

He struggled to tear his eyes away from her sopping fingers and focus on her face.

"Clean it up." She instructed.

His starving mouth quickly lapped at her coated fingers. Then his dark eyes opened and searched hers for more.

The Earth moved in slow motion as he watched her cherry lips spout, "All of it," and he was between her legs in an instant. He pulled her panties down so fast, he was certain they tore, but he didn't care. He only prayed she didn't tell him to stop. She tasted like heaven must have felt; warm and soft and inviting. He could taste her bliss and it was intoxicating. He couldn't help but moan against her clit.

She had to pull at his curls to extract him from her cunt, "Now, I'm going to fuck you until I cum." She said breathlessly as she straddled his cock.

"Fuck, Violet…" He groaned as he felt her tightness engulf him. He didn't care if he was being used. He'd be her toy for all eternity if she'd let him. He would lay down and eagerly take whatever she gave, as long as he could taste her again. His hands pulled at her buttons to free her breasts and her circled her with his tongue. A cry of appreciation and new wave of wetness crashed against him. "You're gonna make me cum," he breathed against her neck.

"Not unless I do," she directed as he growled and shifted gears to something that was once her favorite. Her eyes glistened with a hint of recognition as he laid her on her back and pounded into her, drawing rough circles on her clit with his thumb, "Tate!" she wailed against his onslaught, as his mouth descended on her throat and nipples. "Cum for me, Violet, I want it so bad," his dick was aiming for the engorged tissue at the front of her walls. She exploded in that moment, a sweet keening moan escaping her throat as her hands sought purchase on his upper biceps. "Fuck!" was all that Tate could utter before he emptied inside of her, holding her body as close as he possibly could, not letting her go until he was limp and their sweat grew cold.

Tomorrow she would again become air. But he could wait. He had forever.


End file.
